


Love is Not All

by Aniron84



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Contemporary AU, Credence's haircut isn't canon because I do what I want, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mary Lou Barebone is Her Own Warning, Original Percival Graves is Bad at Feelings, Werewolf Mates, cuddles with some smut thrown in, maybe the real plot was the cuddling that happened along the way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24312754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aniron84/pseuds/Aniron84
Summary: The Gradence Werewolf AU literally no one asked for.
Relationships: Credence Barebone & Original Percival Graves, Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from this poem: https://poets.org/poem/love-not-all-sonnet-xxx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Percival Graves is dragged bodily to the Northeast Regional Lycanthropic Congress, where he seeks out someone from his past.

It was Percival Graves’s least favorite time of year. Or, more accurately, his least favorite time of every other year: the biennial Northeast Regional Lycanthropic Congress. As the second in command of the Acadia Pack, he was duty bound to accompany his alpha, Hana, and her alpha mate, Lira, to the meetings. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

The conference always took place at an extensive campground in rural Massachusetts. Each pack had its own suite of cabins, and the Congress held caucuses to discuss regional business and settle disputes in the large meeting rooms at the center of the grounds.

“Two years gone by in the blink of an eye,” Percy said dourly as he flipped on the turn signal and guided the white SUV down the dirt road that led to the camp. He shook his head as he took in the lettering on the wooden signboard at the entrance. “Welcome, Original Skin!” it read. The secretariat of the Congress always booked the campgrounds under the name of the fictitious nudist organization they’d created, partly out of whimsy, and partly so if any of the human owners or employees of the camp stopped by and saw someone walking around naked pre- or post-shift, they wouldn’t question it. It wasn’t that the reasoning didn’t make sense to Percy—it did. He just wished they’d picked a less ridiculous name.

“You love it,” Hana said, nudging Percy’s knee with a socked foot. “Admit it.” She put her feet back up on the dashboard and looked in the review mirror, winking at Lira. Lira grinned back, tying up her dreadlocks with a strip of cloth.

“Do not,” Percy muttered. “It’s—”

“’Too many shifters in one space,’” Hana and Lira finished together. The three of them had been making this trip together for ten years—five congresses in all—ever since Hana had assumed leadership of the pack, and taken Lira as her mate. Apparently, Percy was becoming predictable.

“Well, it is,” he said.

“You like some of them,” Lira pointed out, opening her shoulder bag to shove her book of crossword puzzles back inside. “Newt, for starters. And you could always make more friends.”

“One’s enough,” Percy said.

“Or who knows,” Lira said, ignoring him, “this could be the year you find a mate.”

Percy almost choked on the cold gas station coffee he’d just brought to his mouth.

“That’s the last thing I need,” he said.

Hana shifted in her seat and leaned toward him. “Percy,” she said. “In all honesty—”

“Not a chance,” he said, cutting her off.

Hana growled, and Percy instinctively bared his neck to her. “I’m sorry, alpha,” he said. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

Hana leaned back and ran a hand through her short brown hair, which was shaved on the sides, longer on top, and liberally sprinkled through with silver.

She sighed. “Look, I’ll drop it if you really want me to,” she said. “Just, don’t write it off completely, okay? Stay open to the possibility.”

“All right,” Percy said. It cost him nothing to make the promise. He knew in his heart he wouldn’t be bringing a mate home to the Acadia Pack—not anytime soon, and probably not ever. He wasn’t a catch—he was too standoffish, too busy being Hana’s second, too exacting in bed, and too unwilling to change anything about his life to accommodate anything more than casual lovers. And he wasn’t getting any younger, either.

“Isn’t there anyone you’re looking forward to seeing?” Lira asked as Percy pulled into the parking space behind their allotted cabin. “As a friend, I mean.”

“I don’t know about ‘looking forward to,’” Percy said, mussing his dark hair with one hand. “But there’s someone I’ve been meaning to check on.”

It had started two years ago, at the last Congress. The NRLC’s intelligence committee was concerned by reports about the New Salem Pack—rumblings that their alpha, Mary Lou Barebone, believed wolf shifters were prone to excess and should curb their animal instincts to become more like humans. Some said she put restrictions on when pack members could shift, with brutal punishments for any violations, while still others said she was doing illicit research to try to breed the shifter gene out of existence entirely. The New Salem Pack was known to take orphaned pups into its fold to try to augment their numbers, but more recently there had been rumors that the pack was taking lone wolves by force, and the intelligence committee had asked Hana—and by extension, Percy—to investigate.

Percy wasn’t proud of what he’d done, that week. Mary Lou Barebone’s three adopted children, as well as two of her enforcers, came with her to the Congress, and Percy had spent every spare moment trying to assess which of them might be his way in. He’d thought eventually one of the enforcers would talk over drinks in the evening, or the littlest girl, Modesty, would let revealing information slip without knowing it, the way children so often did. But in the end it was Credence Barebone, Mary Lou’s adopted son, who’d warmed to him. He’d run into Credence in the woods behind the Barebone cabin. He was sitting on a fallen log, crying and cupping a hand around a split lip like he was trying to keep the blood in. Percy, who had been in wolf form, shifted without a thought, shook the ache out of his bones and walked up to Credence, who only looked more panicked.

“Are you all right?” Percy asked. “I mean—you’re not all right. What can I do?”

Credence shook his head. “I’ll be fine,” he said thickly, looking around as if expecting Mary Lou to appear at any moment.

Percy crouched down next to him. Most shifters didn’t think twice about nudity—bodies were bodies, whatever their form—but Credence blushed and looked away. There was a part of Percy that looked at Credence, wounded and embarrassed and wanting, and thought, _This will make it easier to get information out of him._ It was familiar and shameful, something Percy revisited sometimes, alone in the dark—the part of him that took and didn’t give back, that calculated the odds and bent them even further to serve himself. At the same time, it was what made Percy an effective enforcer. It was what kept his pack safe. It was the other part of him, the part that wanted to wrap up this vulnerable boy and take him back to Hana for safekeeping, that was foreign to him—that he had to push down, somewhere where it wouldn’t interfere with his ability to do his job.

“Come back to my cabin,” he said. “I’ll put some salve on that. It’ll stop the bleeding and no one will be the wiser.”

Credence hesitated. “I can’t be seen with you,” he said.

“We can go through the woods,” Percy said, pointing behind him. “And my alpha and her mate are away at meetings. No one will see.”

Credence had agreed, eventually. He’d let Percy hold gauze to his lip until it stopped bleeding, had let Percy take his face into his hands, and when Percy asked if Mary Lou was responsible for the wound, Credence told the truth.

It wasn’t hard, after that. It took appallingly little kindness for Credence to trust him. Percy contrived a few more meetings with Credence during the week, and Credence told Percy everything he knew. It wasn’t enough. Mary Lou was a brutal alpha, and an even crueler adopted mother, but the intelligence committee knew that already, and it was beyond their purview. An alpha could do what she liked, on her own land, with her own pack. Credence didn’t know anything about feral wolves that might have been taken. He knew there were scientific labs on the New Salem Pack’s land, but he’d never seen inside one, and he couldn’t say what they were for. It didn’t take long for Percy to figure out that Credence wasn't able to give him what he needed. But Percy couldn’t stay away, and he couldn’t understand why.

It was their last meeting that was clearest in Percy’s memory, that he replayed over and over when he returned to Maine: when Credence found Percy behind his cabin and begged Percy to take him back to Acadia, promising that he wouldn’t be any trouble. But wolf shifters belonged to their packs, and their alphas. Credence couldn’t leave the New Salem Pack, and if he did, his alpha was legally entitled to reclaim him. The only way for the Acadia Pack to claim Credence now would be for Hana to fight Mary Lou in an outright challenge. Credence must have known that, and yet he asked anyway, his hand shaking as he reached out to touch Percy’s sleeve. It was the first time Credence had initiated any contact between them, and Percy had wanted to clasp that shaking hand with his own, to keep it warm until it quieted against him. Instead, Percy tried to explain, to apologize, but he hadn’t managed to get more than three words in before Credence had blanched, as if coming back to himself.

“No—no, of course not. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, I know, of course not.” And he’d gone, still apologizing as he stumbled back into the forest, and Percy, coward that he was, let him go.

After that, the intelligence committee’s work largely stalled. Percy joined other enforcers a few times a year for sweeps around the outskirts of the Barebone land, so they could report on any suspicious activities. They were supposed to be reconnaissance missions—a quick trip into the pack’s territory, and a return home. Then, last autumn, Percy got caught.

When he was brought before Mary Lou, he’d used the cover story he’d concocted with the Congress: he was looking for the feral sibling of one of his pack members, a teenage girl who had last been seen in the area, when he’d simply wandered onto New Salem land on accident. But Mary Lou hadn’t bought his story for a moment, and at any rate, much of shifter law stopped at the edge of a pack’s territory. An alpha made the rules on their land, and there was precious little the Congress—or anyone else—could do about it. Percy was lucky Mary Lou hadn’t had him killed outright. Instead, after a perfunctory beating by one of her enforcers, he’d been locked up in a concrete building with a single barred window, where, he presumed, he would stay until Mary Lou decided what to do with him, or until he died.

It was on the second night that he awoke to a scraping sound outside his cell, and Credence’s face outside his window.

“Hi,” Credence said. The moonlight framed the wavy black hair that hung in his eyes, his full pink lips, and a bruised cheek that did nothing to mar his ethereal beauty. “I brought you some bread. I’m sorry it isn’t more.” He reached a napkin-wrapped parcel through the bars.

Percy stared. “Are you seven feet tall now?” he asked.

Credence blushed. “Oh, no,” he said. “I’m standing on a bucket.”

Percy got up and took the bread. “Thank you,” he said. “Credence—”

Credence shook his head. “Don’t,” he said. “You don’t have to pretend to be my friend anymore. I know you were using me to spy on the pack. I guessed, before, but when I heard you’d been caught on our territory, I knew for certain.”

Percy swallowed. “Then why are you helping me?”

“I don’t know,” Credence said miserably. “I just—you—you—” he stammered. “Shit, someone’s coming.” And Credence was gone.

He was back the next night, though, with more bread. When he stepped down from the window to leave, Percy called out after him, as loud as he dared. “Credence—please. Please don’t go.”

There was stillness, then the scrape of a bucket, and then Credence was back at his window.

“Why did you help me, that summer? If you suspected me of spying?” Percy asked. “Or was everything you told me a lie?”

“No,” Credence said. “I never lied to you.” He fell silent for a moment before continuing. “I’m worried about the pups,” he said. “Chastity and Mercy, especially. Our alpha mostly leaves them alone. I…”

“You draw her ire, don’t you, Credence?” Percy asked. “You take her punishments so she’ll leave them alone.”

“Yes,” Credence whispered after a while. “But it’s not enough. It’s never enough.”

They were quiet for a moment, the sounds of the forest night seeping through.

“I wasn’t pretending,” Percy said. “Not entirely. I liked getting to know you. I worried for you. I still do. If there had been any way to take you back with me to our pack, I would have.”

Credence wrapped his fingers around the bars of Percy’s cell, and he looked down at them, studying his own hands as if they belonged to someone else.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” he said eventually, just before he left Percy’s window to disappear back into the night. “But I don’t know if it really matters.”

The next night—Percy’s fourth night in the cell—Credence came back with a key.

“I can’t,” Percy said when Credence unlocked the door. “There’s no way. She’ll know someone helped me.”

Credence held up some metal tools he’d slipped into his pocket. “I’m going to take apart the handle from the inside—make it look like you found a way to jimmy it. Even if she suspects you had help, she won’t know it was me.”

Still, Percy hesitated. “Promise me you’ll be safe. Promise me, Credence.”

But Credence didn’t answer. He just pushed what Percy strongly suspected was his entire dinner ration into Percy’s hands.

“Go, Percy. You have to go now.”

So Percy did. Back in Maine, the months had passed slowly, wet and cold, and sometimes Percy still dreamed of a black-haired angel, running from a monster with Mary Lou’s face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Percival Graves makes things worse before he makes them better.

It wasn’t until Thursday evening, the second-to-last night of the Congress, that Percy had a chance to go looking for Credence, and even then, he wasn’t sure he should.

“Is this a stupid idea?” he asked Hana. “I haven’t seen him since we got here, and I just want to know if he’s ok after—after everything.”

“It’s definitely a stupid idea,” Hana said. She grabbed a fleece jacket off the hook by the door. “Let’s go.”

“Look,” she said as they stepped off the porch, “Maybe we don’t even bother sneaking around. Maybe we stroll right up and tell this New Salem alpha we want to clear the air about last year—that you really were looking for a feral. She won’t buy it, but she’ll probably believe that we’re just there to sell the lie.”

Percy nodded. “That’s better than any ideas I had. That’s why you’re the alpha.”

“Hey,” Hana stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “You know you could be an alpha in your own right, don’t you, Percy? If you wanted your own pack someday.”

Percy squirmed, uncomfortable with the praise, even as her confidence in him gutted him. “Thank you, alpha,” he said. “But I like being your second.”

“I know you do,” Hana shoved him, grinning. “I mean, who wouldn’t? But I’m just saying, Percy.”

“You’ve been ‘just saying’ a lot lately,” Percy said, cocking an eyebrow at her to take the sting out of his words.

Hana laughed. “Yeah, well, the week’s not over yet. You have two days left to leave with a mate.”

“Unlikely,” Percy grumbled. He was grateful for the banter, for a chance to take his mind off the pit of unease that grew stronger in his stomach the closer they got to the New Salem cabins. _Credence may not even be there,_ Percy told himself. _And if he is, there may not be any way for me to speak with him, not really._ But as they drew near, they could hear shouts and jeers coming from inside one of the buildings, and somehow, in a place beyond logic, Percy knew: Credence _was_ there, and someone was hurting him. He started to break into a run, but Hana pulled him back.

“Follow my lead, Percival,” she snapped. “Or we turn back now.”

Percy ducked his head. “Yes, alpha,” he said.

Hana gave a cursory knock on the cabin door before pushing it open. Inside, Credence sprawled on the floor, his t-shirt torn open and his back bloodied. Next to him, Mary Lou held a belt in her hands as two of her enforcers laughed.

Hana looked down at Credence, then at Mary Lou, her expression impenetrable. “What’s this?” she asked.

Mary Lou sneered at her. “I’m disciplining a member of my pack. Not that it’s any concern of yours.”

“It is if it distracts from our business here,” Hana said. “But as you were.”

Mary Lou tossed the belt on the ground. “What business?” she asked.

“I wanted to clear the air,” Hana said. “You had my enforcer on your grounds last year.”

“As was my right,” Mary Lou said. “He intruded on my land.”

Hana inclined her head an almost imperceptible degree. “You’re right,” she said. “But it was an accident. You should know that he was trying to track down the sister of one of our pack members—a teenager who we suspected had gone feral. He never meant to cross into your territory.”

Mary Lou sniffed. “You’re telling me that your second-in-command doesn’t have a strong enough grasp of either geography or territory-marking customs to know that he was crossing into New Salem? Was it just coincidence that it was the middle of the night?”

Hana nodded at Percy, giving him permission to speak. “Forgive me, Alpha Barebone,” he said. “We had reason to believe the girl was a danger to herself, so the situation was urgent. I was overtired, and I must have lost my way.”

“You ran away in the middle of the night,” she said. “Hardly the behavior of an innocent man.”

“I’m sorry for that,” Percy lied. “But I needed to get back home as soon as possible, and I didn’t believe I had time to wait for you to work things out with my alpha.”

“How was it that you got out, again?”

Percy paused. _Shit_. He couldn’t recall, now, how Credence had planned to cover his escape. All he could see when he wracked his memory was Credence’s face, the way he looked at Percy before he turned away and told Percy to go. But he had to say something. It was the door, wasn’t it? Something with the door.

“The hinges were broken partway through. It took me a few days to notice, but when I did, I realized I could break the door down.”

“The hinges?”

“Yes,” he said.

On the floor, Credence’s left hand twitched almost imperceptibly. But it was enough for Percy to know he’d made a grievous mistake—and worse, it was enough for Mary Lou to know it, too.

“You,” she snarled at Credence. “I knew it was you that helped him.” She delivered a vicious kick to his ribs. “Get up!” she shouted.

Somehow, Credence made it to his feet, only for Mary Lou to backhand him so hard it split his lower lip before he fell to the ground again. “You worthless filth,” she cursed. She reached for the belt.

Percy lunged forward, only for Hana to yank him back.

“You can’t,” Hana said in his ear, gripping his arm so hard it hurt. “You can’t, Percy. He’s not our pack.”

“She’s going to kill him,” Percy gritted out. Mary Lou’s arm rose, and fell again. Credence lay on the ground, not even lifting his arms to defend himself from the blows.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Hana said. “She’s his alpha. You’re not his alpha and you’re not his mate.”

_His mate_. A mate could take Credence away from his pack, if he accepted, and bring him into a new one. A mate had a claim even an alpha couldn’t override.

“I claim him,” Percy stepped forward, shouting at the top of his lungs. “I claim him,” he said again, until the room fell silent. “I claim him as my mate.”

Mary Lou turned, her face contorted with rage.

“He won’t accept,” she said. “He knows you’re only offering out of pity. As if someone could possibly want _him_.” She raised the belt again, and this time Hana moved, faster than Percy could follow, blocking Mary Lou’s arm with her own.

“You heard him,” she said, every bit the fierce alpha Percy would follow to his grave. “My second has claimed his mate. Now stand down before I rip your arm off.”

Mary Lou shook off Hana’s grip, but she didn’t move to strike Credence again. “He has to answer,” she said. “And if he says no, he’s mine, and you get the hell out.”

“Credence,” Hana said gently. “Do you accept Percy’s offer?”

Credence struggled to sit up, blood streaming from his lip and from his back. His eyes were glassy with despair and for a heart-splitting moment, Percy thought he would say no—that he would prefer, simply, to die.

“Say yes, Credence,” Percy said desperately, before Credence could speak. “Please.”

At that, Credence finally lifted his gaze to Percy’s. He looked at Percy for a long moment.

“Yes,” he rasped. “I accept.”

Percy was moving then, stripping his zip-up hoodie off his body to wrap it around Credence’s shaking form, and scooping Credence into his arms.

Mary Lou let out a string of curses, flinging the belt to the ground.

“Acadia scum,” she spat. She moved to walk out of the room, but turned on her heel at the last moment. “The law says you’ve got 28 days,” she said to Percy. “One lunar cycle, nothing more. If you haven’t claimed the brat with your mating mark by then, I get him back.” She looked down at Credence. “And then I’ll make him wish he were dead.”

Mary Lou’s enforcers followed her out, and suddenly Hana, Percy, and Credence were alone in the cabin. Hana gazed at Percy, who held Credence clutched to his chest. Credence was sobbing quietly, his head against Percy’s shoulder, the blood from his cut lip staining Percy’s flannel shirt. She reached out and gently stroked Credence’s hair, then turned to Percy, an inscrutable expression on her face.

“Looks like you’re getting a mate, after all,” she said. She clapped Percy on the back. “Come on, let’s go find a healer.”

Secretariat healers were on rotation in the camp’s first aid station, and so it was there that Percy and Hana took Credence, taking back routes as much as possible to avoid any unwanted attention. Percy breathed a sigh of relief when he recognized Mara, the healer on duty. She was a petite, curvy blonde with a sweet face and an iron disposition, especially when it came to taking care of the patients in her care. Percy liked that about her.

“What do we have here?” Mara asked, standing up. “A fight?”

Hana shook her head, trying and failing to keep the growl from her voice. “His alpha—former alpha—did this.”

Mara looked from Hana to Credence. “And what’s your relationship to him?”

“I’m his new alpha,” Hana said.

Mara nodded. “And you are?” she asked Percy.

“I’m, ah. I’m his promised mate,” Percy said, the words sounding strange even to his own ears.

“Ok,” Mara said. “Alpha, you can come into the examination room with the boy if you like, but Percy, I’m sorry, you need to stay out here.” She held out her arms for Credence. Unbidden, a low growl rose up in Percy’s throat.

“I know, sweetheart, and I’m sorry,” Mara said. “But he has a right to confidentiality, and as far as I’m concerned, he’s in no state to consent to an exception for anyone that’s not his alpha.”

Percy hesitated a moment longer, but then he handed Credence over to Mara. He felt oddly bereft once they’d retreated into the examination room, and he paced the reception area, unable to stay still.

What seemed like hours later, but was probably closer to thirty minutes, they finally returned. Hana had a firm grip on Credence’s elbow to help him stay upright as they walked out. Percy rushed over, wrapping an arm around Credence’s waist before he could stop himself.

“Are you all right?” Percy asked, his voice low. Credence looked up, briefly meeting Percy’s eyes before nodding and looking away.

“With a little time, he’ll be just fine,” Mara said, smiling reassuringly at Credence. “See that you take care of him, Percy,” she said.

“I will,” Percy said. Without giving himself time to ask why it suddenly seemed imperative that he have Credence in his arms again, Percy scooped him up and carried him out the door, with Hana following close behind.

Back at the cabin, Lira sat up at the sound of the door, swinging her feet off the bunkbed and dropping the book she’d been reading on the floor. “I’ve been wondering where…” she trailed off, taking in the boy in Percy’s arms and the blood on their clothes.

“Sorry to make you worry, babe,” Hana said. She kissed Lira, then pulled her back toward the porch. “Percy, could you join us once you get Credence settled?” she called as they walked out.

Percy placed Credence down gently on a bottom bunk. He adjusted his hoodie more securely around Credence’s shoulders, and reached to the foot of the bed for the quilt before wrapping that around Credence, too. Percy knelt down to look him in the eye.

“I’m just going to step outside and help Hana get Lira up to speed on everything that happened with your—with the New Salem Pack,” Percy said quietly. “Then I’ll be back, and I’ll get you something to eat, all right?”

Credence nodded. “Thank you,” he said, so softly Percy had to lean in to hear. Almost involuntarily, Percy reached in to smooth Credence’s hair out of his eyes, drawing back when Credence flinched.

“You don’t have anything to thank me for,” Percy said. He adjusted the quilt one more time, then went to join Hana and Lira on the porch.

Lira threw her arms around Percy.

“That poor boy,” she said, her face muffled in Percy’s shirt. “Hana told me. Thank goodness you were there.”

“I made things worse for him actually,” Percy said, scrubbing a hand across his face. He groaned. “So much worse.”

Lira shook her head fiercely. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “He’s safe with us now.”

Hana squeezed Lira’s hand. “That he is,” she said. She reached down and handed a tote bag to Percy. “This is what Mara gave us. There’s a poultice for the open wounds on his back and on his lip, and another one for the old scars. The green jar needs to be kept refrigerated as much as possible, though it’s ok for a few hours at a time—that’s for the bruised ribs. She applied them all tonight, but Credence will need help using them tomorrow—twice a day at least, maybe more if he’s in pain.”

Percy clenched and unclenched a fist at his side. “What else did Mara tell you?”

Hana sighed. “I’m sure you can guess. He’s been beaten for years. He’s malnourished—we need to get his weight up if we can, but he’ll have to start with broths and other light foods, otherwise his system won’t be able to handle it.”

“We can do that,” Percy said.

“There’s more,” Hana said. “Percy, Credence mentioned that the New Salemers withheld touch as a form of punishment.”

“So he’s touch-starved as well,” Lira murmured, shivering. Wolf shifters relied heavily on touch to establish bonds among pack members—to reassure, settle differences, and soothe hurts, both mental and physical. A wolf denied physical interaction with their pack mates could suffer dire consequences as a result. It was one reason lone wolves so often went feral.

“I’ll kill her,” Percy said. “I swear, I’ll—”

Hana clasped the back of Percy’s neck. “No,” she said. “If I ever get the chance, _I’ll_ kill her. Your job is to take care of your mate. So let’s go do that, shall we?”

“Credence, we thought we’d sleep as a pack tonight, if that’s all right,” Hana said. Percy was heating up some soup in a saucepan in the kitchenette, and Lira was already pulling mattresses off the bunk beds and onto the floor, pushing them together and rearranging the bedding. It wasn’t unusual for members of a pack to sleep next to each other at night, especially when they were away from their home territory. The three of them hadn’t slept that way on this trip—instead, Hana and Lira had shared a bed, and Percy slept in front of the door, blocking the entrance into the cabin. But tonight, it seemed, they were changing that configuration.

After they’d coaxed some soup into Credence and cobbled together enough pieces of clothing between the three of them to serve as his pajamas, they curled up together on the nest Lira made. Hana and Lira lay on either side of Credence, holding hands over his head. Percy scooted in close and stretched an arm as far as he could over the three of them, mindful of Credence’s bruised ribs. _My pack_ , Percy thought to himself. _My mate._

It was a long time before he fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Percival Graves is firmly instructed to man up (werewolf up?), and he complies. And in which Credence Barebone gets backseat cuddles (no, that’s not a euphemism).

Percival Graves had successfully avoided his promised mate for the better part of 24 hours. He would have been relieved, if only he didn’t feel so terrible about it.

It hadn’t been intentional, at first. On Friday morning, the last full day of the Congress, he’d needed to accompany Hana to a pack leaders’ breakfast before the sun had even fully risen. Credence had still been asleep in the nest they’d made the night before, and Lira shooed Hana and Percy out the door before wrapping her arms back around the exhausted boy, where she’d stay until he woke up. Credence would be safe with Lira—probably even more at ease with her than he would be with Percy. Lira was everything Percy wasn’t—warm, open, generous with her time and her smiles. Lira could talk about feelings. Lira could _listen_ to feelings, which was maybe more important. The last time Percy had tried to let one of his conquests down gently, all his attempts to practice active listening had apparently come off so poorly that the man in question ended up punching Percy in the face.

Not that Credence was a conquest. And not that there would be any letting down, this time—not if Percy wanted to keep Credence safe from Mary Lou. And he did. That was all that mattered. He owed Credence that much. And if the realization that Percy had basically promised to be another person’s, well, _person_ for the rest of their very long lives made him panic, that was something he could deal with later. After more meetings, lunch with the second-in-command from the Silver Hills pack, a phone call back home to make sure everything was ready for the alpha’s return, and an afternoon closed-door session with the intelligence committee, it made perfect sense that Percy would need a walk to clear his head. A long one. Alone. In lieu of having dinner at the cabin. He doubted anyone would even notice.

They noticed.

“Look who it is,” Lira said brightly when he walked in the door, shortly after 8 at night. “Nice of you to join us.” She mimed strangling Percy when Credence wasn’t looking. Hana snorted, then covered it up with a cough.

“Hi,” Percy said, running his hands through his hair. “Sorry I’m late. Hi,” he said again, this time to Credence.

“Hi,” Credence said awkwardly. He really was lovely, Percy thought. And he was wearing one of Percy’s sweaters, a fact that made Percy’s wolf sit up and take notice. It was dark green, far too big on Credence, but it brought out the flecks of jade in his dark eyes. Credence blushed under the weight of Percy’s gaze, then turned pale, then immediately busied himself with straightening the bedding on the floor of the cabin.

Lira followed Percy into the kitchenette, where he put a kettle on to boil for a cup of tea.

“You couldn’t have come back any earlier? Or stopped by even once, in an entire day?” she asked, kicking Percy’s ankle.

“Why? Is everything ok?” Percy asked. “Credence was fine with you, wasn’t he? Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” Lira said in a low voice. “But when someone’s been beaten within an inch of his life, and then had said life entirely upended in the course of an evening, I believe it’s customary for the person responsible to at least check in about it.”

“Fuck,” Percy scrubbed at his face. “I’m terrible at this.”

“You’re not yet,” Lira said, her normally sunny expression clouded. “But if you don’t take a bit more care, you will be.”

Percy intended to make it better. He really did. But there was no time to talk to Credence alone before they went to sleep again, and the next morning was taken up with making breakfast, packing their things and loading the car for the nearly eight-hour drive back home to Maine. As they walked to the SUV, Percy held out his hands for the keys.

“I thought I’d drive,” he said.

“Nope,” Hana said, making a popping sound as she emphasized the ‘p.’ “I’ve got it handled.”

Percy just stared, panicked. “But I…uh…”

“Oh, will you look at that,” Hana said loudly. “I must have left my cell phone back at the cabin.”

Percy blinked, confused. The outline of her phone was clearly visible in her back pocket. “Hana—”

“Walk back with me, Percy, will you? Now.”

Percy did. As soon as they were out of range, Hana grabbed him by the shirt and backed him against a tree.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Percival?” she asked. “Are you that horrified by the thought of paying attention to your mate for more than five seconds at a time?”

Percy opened his mouth, then closed it again. He had nothing to say, no ground to stand on that wasn’t already sinking beneath him. Hana’s expression softened.

“Listen to me, Percy,” she said. “Listen to me as your alpha, and as your friend. I know you feel indebted to this boy. He probably saved your life when you were captured by New Salem, and you were right to stand up for him. But if you can’t or don’t want to be his mate, you need to let me know.”

“The New Salem alpha—” Percy began.

“I know,” Hana said. “But we have 27 days to figure something out. Percy, if you don’t want this, I give you my word that I will find another way to save Credence’s life. It’s not fair to trap you in a relationship you’d only resent, and it’s certainly not fair to Credence. After all he’s been through, he deserves someone who’s all in—someone who wants to be a part of his life, and everything that entails. If that’s not you, he needs to know that, before he gets attached.”

“I…” Percy said. All he had to do was tell Hana she was right, but the words stuck in his throat. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? To make sure Credence was safe, while extracting himself from a partnership that neither of them had really chosen?

Hana laid a hand on his shoulder, the look in her eyes making clear she thought Percy had already made his decision. “Someone else can look after Credence, Percy,” she said.

But they couldn’t, Percy realized. They really couldn’t. Not when Percy wanted it—needed it—to be him. He wanted to be the one to see Credence through this, to help him face the damage the New Salem pack had inflicted on him head on and show him the world he’d been missing. And Percy’s wolf apparently wanted Credence for his own, if Percy’s increasingly embarrassing physical reaction to the boy was any indication.

“No,” he shook his head. “Thank you, alpha. But I’m going to be Credence’s mate. No one is going to look after him but me.”

“All right then,” Hana smiled. “It’s settled.”

Percy grabbed her arm before she could turn away. “Hana…” he hesitated. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be a mate.”

“No one does, at first,” Hana said. “But I’d suggest you start by at least sitting next to him in the car.”

“But how will that help?” Percy asked. “I mean—I’m going to talk to him. I need to talk to him. But when we’re alone, not—not on a car ride with other people.”

Hana shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be anything special, Percy. Just spend time with him. You don’t even need to talk on the ride up, if you don’t want to.” She paused. “He does need to be touched, though.”

“I…what,” Percy asked, his brain short-circuiting as it ran through every image Hana’s words conjured up.

Hana laughed. “Not like that, idiot. At least, not on this trip. I just mean, he still needs a lot of physical touch from his pack mates. You can do that, can’t you?”

Percy nodded. “I can do that.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Credence Barebone thought his heart might beat out of his chest.

It might not have meant anything to anyone else. For someone less needy, less desperate for the world to show him a kindness he was no longer sure it possessed, the moment might not even have registered. But until the day he died, however soon that might be, Credence would remember every detail of how it felt to be touched by Percy Graves.

Credence wasn’t used to being touched. There were days when he could barely remember what it felt like, before he was adopted by the New Salem pack. He hated that—hated that lack of memory, when in contrast he could catalogue with perfect clarity every shameful second when he’d almost craved the beatings, because those moments, when someone held his wrists or his ankles for Mary Lou to strike him, were the only times he would feel another hand on his skin.

He’d remembered Percy, though—the times their hands brushed when Credence handed him bread through the bars of his cell. The comfortable weight of his hand on Credence’s shoulder when he said goodbye, and thank you, before he escaped from New Salem. And most of all, the way he’d cradled Credence close when he carried him away from Mary Lou’s cabin and into the night, almost as if he were someone that mattered, instead of a useless burden.

And then there was the car ride to Acadia. When Percy slid into the backseat, he’d motioned Credence into the middle.

“So the seatbelt won’t press against your ribs,” he’d said. But then, after Credence buckled in and they were underway, Percy had slid an arm around him and pulled him close. “Sleep if you can,” he’d said. “The rest will help you heal.”

Credence hadn’t slept, not really. He’d closed his eyes, kept his breath even and light so he wouldn’t bother Percy, or make him think he had to talk to Credence during the ride. He listened to the steady beat of Percy’s heart, storing it away for later, when, inevitably, Percy would decide he couldn’t stand to be around Credence, either, and sent him away. Once or twice, Percy ran a hand through Credence’s hair, and that, Credence thought, would sustain him through a great many lonely hours, when they came again.

This, though—this was a different kind of touch altogether.

“Is it all right?” Percy asked. They’d arrived in Acadia not long before, and Percy had led Credence straight back to his home, a cozy, surprisingly tidy cabin a stone’s throw behind the main house. There, they could unpack and change clothes before Credence met the pack over dinner. Percy was standing behind Credence as they faced the bed, one hand gentle on the bare skin of his waist, the other moving to pull off his t-shirt. The salve for Credence's back was on the nightstand next to them.

Credence’s hand clenched in his shirt. “Ye-yes. It’s just,” he swallowed.

Percy waited, his fingers stroking slowly against Credence’s skin.

“It’s ugly,” Credence whispered. “My back. The scars.”

Percy stilled, then spun Credence around to face him.

“Look at me,” Percy said. Credence did. “Nothing about you is ugly. Not a single thing.”

“You haven’t seen it yet,” Credence pointed out.

“I know,” Percy said. “But what she did to you makes _her_ ugly, Credence. Not you. Never you.”

Credence’s eyes stung with tears. He blinked, trying to will them away before Percy noticed. But Percy did, of course. He brushed a tear from the corner of Credence’s eye and turned him back around, raising the shirt over his head at the same time.

Credence shivered, his back tense, but Percy just leaned down, resting his forehead against Credence’s shoulder.

“Like I said,” Percy said against his skin. “There isn’t anything ugly about you.” He stepped back after a moment, and Credence heard Percy unscrew the jar of ointment Mara had sent home with them.

“This might sting a little,” Percy said. And it did. But his hands were methodical and gentle as he cleaned and dressed the wounds on Credence’s back. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought you straight back here,” he continued. “I guess I just thought maybe we should talk, just the two of us. Before you’re surrounded by the whole rest of the pack.”

Credence’s heart fell. So this was it—when Percy would tell Credence it was a mistake, that Percy didn’t want him after all, or that they would be mates in name only as soon as they’d bonded. He’d known it would come, but he wanted to spend a little more time in this moment, in this miracle of a world where someone would touch him with kindness and tell him he could never be ugly to them. Credence bowed his head.

“I know this probably isn’t how you wanted to find someone to be with,” Percy said. He’d moved on to the old scars on Credence’s back, rubbing in the lotion Mara had given him. “And I—well. I didn’t think I would ever have a mate. It wasn’t something I could picture. But all I know is that every time I left you—at the Congress two years ago, and last autumn, in Acadia—it felt wrong. I hated leaving you behind, even if I couldn’t work out why. But this—having you here—this feels right. ”

Percy stroked a hand down Credence’s side before reaching for the gauze and beginning to wrap it around him. “I want you to know that I take this seriously, Credence. I want—I want this to work between us. I want to be the mate you deserve.”

Credence spun around, causing Percy to lunge to tuck in the end of the gauze before Credence could unravel everything he’d done.

“You do?” Credence asked. “I—are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Percy said. He fiddled with the wrap on Credence’s back and chest as he spoke. “You should know—I don’t really know how to do this. I’ve never done it before. Obviously, I guess. But I want to. I want to be good for you.”

It was Credence’s turn to go up on his toes, to try to look Percy in the eye. “You are good,” he said. “You’re so good, Percy.” Credence could hear the earnestness in his own voice and blushed, embarrassed. But Percy didn’t look away.

“So are you, Credence,” he said. “Now let’s find you a shirt, and then I’ll show you around.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Percival Graves learns not to be dumb about feelings, and in which Credence Barebone reveals a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh so sorry for the long delay between chapters! This one ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but I promise to have another chapter up soon.

Percy was out of his element.

Or rather, he was in his element, but something else had shifted, and every inch of earth that had once felt like well-trodden ground was now new and uncertain beneath his feet.

Take, for example, sleeping in his own bed. Percy had a king-size bed, the most luxurious piece of furniture he owned, and it took up most of the bedroom in his small cabin. It was worth the space, though—the mattress was comfortable and firm in all the right places, covered with soft, clean, flannel sheets and with quilts various members of the pack had pieced together during the long Maine winters. The room was complete with a nightstand, a bookshelf, a comfortable chair, and a stone fireplace that was the mirror of the fireplace the floor below. It was Percy’s sanctuary. And last night, he’d shared it with Credence.

Percy hadn’t thought it would feel so new, sharing a bed with him. When they’d returned from pack dinner, Credence was still blushing and shy but happy, Percy thought, with all the kind attention he’d received. But Credence had frozen at the foot of the bed as Percy started to undress, standing stock-still until Percy had turned around and seen the look in Credence’s eyes. It was fathomless, fear and uncertainty and willingness and desire all fighting to surface in that sweet face, and Percy, selfish bastard that he was, let the storm rage for a moment, so he could watch its beauty. Finally, Percy had reached a hand to Credence’s shoulder.

“Nothing is going to happen between us tonight,” he said. “I promise. We need a little time to get to know each other first.”

“Okay,” Credence said, swallowing. Percy saw relief in those jade-flecked eyes then, but he thought—he hoped—it was tempered by at least a little disappointment, too. Percy hadn’t known what to expect, after that—maybe that after they got in bed, they wouldn’t touch again until morning, sailors adrift on different seas. But as they lay there, Percy just in his boxer briefs, Credence swimming in a pair of Percy’s cut-off pajama pants and a t-shirt that belonged to Lira, Credence inched closer and closer until Percy got the hint and pulled him in close.

“Sleep now,” Percy told him, and Credence did. It shouldn’t have been the best sleep of Percy’s life, not with Credence’s cold feet pressed back against Percy’s shins, not with Percy struggling not to get hard, pressed tight against Credence’s perfect, curved little ass. But somehow it was, and Percy didn’t stir until the sun came in through the curtains.

Or take now, for example: Pack Pancake Breakfast, or PPB, as the Acadia Pack’s teenagers called it. The Acadia Pack was 12 wolves strong, before Credence joined, and growing: Hana and Lira were the heart of it, as the alpha and alpha mate. Percy was Hana’s second, and head of her enforcers. Thom and Annika were enforcers, too, and had been with Hana almost as long as Percy. Thom had twin teenagers, Luis and Leah, with his mate Marisol. Annika and her mate Gia had a teenager as well, Meg, and the pack was rounded out by another mated pair, Ciaran and Ezra. Ciaran and Ezra were looking to adopt, and everyone was secretly hoping this meant the pack would have pups again soon.

It should have felt ideal—it _was_ ideal, in so many ways. It was cozy, and caring, and functional, and the closet thing to family Percy had ever known. But if it was a family, Percy was the battle-scarred, taciturn uncle that no one quite knew how to talk to, or to love. Loyalty and duty were the ways Percy showed that he cared, and while his pack members—his alpha in particular—appreciated that about him, they mostly kept a respectful distance Percy had never known how to overcome.

Until now, apparently.

Luis and Meg had taken it upon themselves to go through bins of pack clothes to find a wardrobe that would fit Credence, washing and folding everything and dropping it off on Percy’s porch. Leah had already lobbied to cut Credence’s hair, though she’d backed down when Percy growled, in spite of himself. (Yes, it would have to be trimmed eventually, but for now, Percy liked the way the loose waves tumbled across Credence’s face, a fact Percy would be damned before he admitted to Leah.) Ciaran, the pack’s best cook, had taken Hana’s instructions to fatten Credence up seriously, and Ezra was in on it, too, casually sliding fresh pancakes onto Credence’s plate and refilling little bowls of strawberries and bananas to put in front of him. Even Annika was charmed. She kept squeezing Credence’s shoulder and calling him “my boy,” which was more affection than she ever showed anyone except for Gia and Meg.

Percy had, if not quite expected, at least hoped the pack would fuss over Credence. He hadn’t anticipated that it would extend to him. But Thom had already taken Percy aside and congratulated him, promising to build a wardrobe for Percy and Credence’s bedroom as a mating gift, and Gia had cried happy tears when Percy introduced her to his mate, and Ezra had _hugged_ Percy, for the Godess’s sake. It felt— _nice_ seemed like such an inadequate word, but if _nice_ meant pack and belonging and safety and home, then that’s how it felt. His packmates were shoveling the last bits of pancakes into their mouths, Thom was pointing out the birds flocking to the feeder outside the dining room window, Credence had somehow ended up nestled into Percy’s side, rubbing his full belly, and for the first time in a long time, Percy felt damn near perfect.

Eventually, though, Percy pushed himself away from the table. He and Meg were on the roster for dishes that morning.

“You again,” he said, rolling up his sleeves and turning on the hot water tap to fill up the sink.

“Don’t act too excited, bro,” Meg grinned at him.

“For the last time,” Percy said. “I’m not your bro.”

“Yeah you are, bro.”

Percy flicked dishwater at her. “Kids your age don’t even say ‘bro’ anymore. You’re just doing it to fuck with me.”

“Is it working?” Meg asked.

Percy rolled his eyes. “Hurry up and dry or we’ll be here all morning.”

They worked in silence for a while, before Meg spoke up again.

“So, Credence is great,” she said.

Percy smiled at the skillet he was scrubbing. “Everyone seems to like him, anyway,” Percy said. “They’ve been really welcoming.”

Meg wrung out the damp dish towel before throwing it aside and pulling a dry one from the drawer. “I mean, it’s not just because of him, obviously.”

“Huh?” Percy asked.

Meg sighed. “Goddess, Percy. It’s for you, too, you dingus. Everyone’s excited to see you so happy.”

The skillet slipped out of Percy’s hands, clattering into the sink. “Uh…why? I mean…thank you?”

“Why? Because we care about you,” Meg said, soapy hands soaking through her jeans where they rested on her hips. “Do you seriously not know that?”

Percy swallowed against the lump in his throat.

“No, don’t answer that,” Meg said. “I can see you don’t. Well, we’ll have to change tactics.”

“Tactics?” Percy asked. He felt like the time he’d accidentally taken a double dose of allergy medicine and then tried to stay awake for the pack’s game night. He was clearly at least a step behind Meg, and likely more.

“Tactics,” Meg said. “Like, how do you show the pack second that you care about him when he’s dumb about feelings?”

“There are tactics for that?” Percy asked.

“Yeah. You make him quilts, for starters, to make sure he’s warm in his stupid drafty cabin. And make him lots of extra food, because he eats like five times as much as a normal person. And when he finally brings a mate home, which you weren’t sure he would, because he’s old—”

“Hey,” Percy said.

“—then you’re nice to his mate, because you’re glad his finally happy.”

The lump in Percy’s throat was back. Percy swallowed hard. “I have a lot of quilts,” he said.

“Yeah,” Meg said. “You do.”

Percy, in an act so uncharacteristic he wondered later if it was a sugar crash from all the syrup he’d eaten earlier, hugged her.

Meg squeaked, “Yeah, yeah, okay, you’re getting soap on me, Percival.”

Percy released her. “Thanks,” he said.

“Anytime,” Meg said. “I’m wise beyond my years.”

Percy snorted. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Admit I’m emotionally intelligent, at least.”

Percy held up his index finger and his thumb. “Maybe a smidge.”

“Whatever, bro.”

“You know you’re going to be 18 in like a month, and then I can fight you for insubordination, right?”

“Alpha wouldn’t let you.”

“She would too.”

“Would not.”

“Would too.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sometime around his fourth or fifth day with the Acadia Pack, Credence realized that he was the happiest he’d ever been in his life.

So of course he fucked it up almost immediately.

It was a quiet, rainy evening after dinner. The teenagers were doing homework, Hana and Lira were what could charitably called “canoodling” on the couch, and he, Percy, Gia, and Ezra were playing Scrabble at the dining room table. Credence shielded his tiles as he rearranged them, trying to come up with a word to play.

Or rather, trying to come up with a word to play that wasn’t overtly sexual.

“Bad luck,” he muttered to himself.It was just chance that for his last several turns, the highest-scoring words he could make by combining his tiles with the letters on the board were, well, suggestive. It had everything to do with the luck of the draw, and absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Credence was about to detonate from sexual frustration.

“What’s bad luck?” Percy asked, leaning over to peer at Credence’s tiles.

“No cheating,” Credence protested.

“Mm.” Percy hummed. Under the table, he stroked his ankle against Credence’s. “Not cheating. Helping.”

And that, in a nutshell, was why every word Credence could think of was embarrassingly filthy.

On his first morning in Maine, Credence had thought it was a fluke that when he woke up, Percy was hard against Credence’s back. He’d eased himself slowly away from Percy before he could wake up, not wanting Percy to feel awkward.

On the second morning, when it happened again, Credence told himself it was just proximity—simple friction, nothing more.

On the third morning, Credence awoke to find himself leaning back into Percy, rubbing against him in his sleep. He should stop—he needed to stop. Credence gave one more wriggle, but before he could move away Percy’s big hand slipped under Credence’s shirt, splayed hot over his bare skin.

“Stay,” Percy murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. “Feels good.”

He slid his other hand down to Credence’s hip, pulling him in closer. He groaned into Credence’s ear, then nuzzled lower, nosing his way down Credence’s neck.

“I keep thinking how your throat will look with my mark on it,” Percy whispered against Credence’s skin, fully awake now.“I picture it one way, and then another. It depends…”

“Depends on what?” Credence croaked.

Percy took his hand off Credence’s hip and moved it up to his throat. “On how I’m taking you when I make it. Whether I’m having you from behind,” he said, stroking the skin at the base of Credence’s neck, where it met his shoulder, “or face to face.” He trailed his hand around to the front.

Credence was on Percy then, twisting in his arms and using all of his weight to push Percy down into the mattress, and had his lips smashed against Percy’s before he remembered that he had no fucking idea how to kiss.

“Um,” Credence said against Percy’s mouth, and Credence was seconds away from death by mortification when Percy took control. He brushed his lips against Credence’s, coaxing his mouth open and then taking it, gentle and sure. Credence forgot all about dying of embarrassment, then, because this was heaven on earth, and it was worth living for.

After a moment, Percy pulled back, stroking his thumb against Credence’s lower lip. “Was that your first kiss?” Percy asked.

“Yes,” Credence answered.

But before the embarrassment could come back, Percy asked, “Did you like it?”

“Yes,” Credence said again.

Percy just smiled. “Good,” he said. “I liked giving it to you.”

Something changed between them, after that. Percy seemed certain of Credence in a way he hadn’t been before, and he was bolder. He touched Credence more—an arm around his waist, or a hand stroking his hair when they stood together—and it made Credence _want_ , and Percy knew it.

Credence fidgeted with his Scrabble tiles. He wasn’t sure why Percy hadn’t taken things further between them, when he could so easily could have. Unless maybe Percy didn’t really want Credence, after all. Unless—

A big hand dropped on top of his, stilling it against the table. “You’re going to break that if you keep fidgeting with it,” Percy said, smiling down at the tile rack in Credence’s hand.

“Oh,” Credence blushed. He chose the most innocuous of the words he could spell and arranged the tiles on the board.

“‘Blow?’” Ezra said, arching an eyebrow at Credence.

“It’s, um, a double word score,” Credence squeaked.

Percy laughed, then, deep and throaty. “And that’s the only reason you played it?”

“Get a room, guys,” Gia muttered, scowling down at her own tiles.

“You’re just mad because you’re losing,” Ezra pointed out. “Ooh, or maybe you’re mad because Annika’s on patrol tonight, and so _you_ can’t—”

Gia turned red, and Ezra laughed. “I’ve hit a nerve, I see.”

“Everyone gets horny before the full moon,” Percy pointed out. “Hornier,” he corrected, winking at Credence before continuing. “It’s the hormones, before a shift. And the moon’s tomorrow.”

Credence’s stomach swooped again, and not from lust this time. There wasn’t any truth to the myths that claimed shifters had to change forms at the full moon—Credence and the rest of the New Salem pack were proof enough of that. But transformations were supposed to be easiest, then, or at least more fluid, and wolf packs often treated the full moon as a ritual occasion to shift, and then run, together.

Or so Credence had heard. Because Mary Lou would have killed every last wolf in New Salem before she’d allow that to happen.

“…Credence?” Gia was saying. “You look really pale. Are you ok?”

“I’m gonna,” Credence said, panting. “I think I’m gonna…” He stood up, tiles spilling from his hand onto the floor. “I’m gonna be sick,” he said, and then he was running out the door.

He made it as far as the wood pile between the pack house and Percy’s cabin before he threw up, leaning against the logs and vomiting into the grass. The last few days had felt like a dream come true—a pack that cared for him, and a promised mate that wanted him. Had seemed to want him, anyway, but who certainly wouldn’t want him now, not once he learned how broken Credence really was.

Credence heard footsteps on the path behind him, and closed his eyes tight against the tears that leaked out. _Please not Percy_ , he prayed to the Goddess. _Just not Percy_. He couldn’t bear for Percy to see him like this, on top of everything else. But the Goddess had never heard Credence’s prayers before, and she didn’t now, because soon Percy was there, crouching down beside him.

“Credence,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t,” Credence said, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. “Don’t come too close. I just—I just threw up.”

But Percy had his arms around Credence, drawing him in close until his head rested against Percy’s chest.

“Shh,” Percy soothed. “I’ve got you.”

He stroked Credence’s cheek. “Do you think it was something you ate?”

Credence shook his head. He could have lied, but he couldn’t bear it anymore. He needed to rip the bandaid off, end the dream before it overrode any more of Credence’s defenses.

“You were talking about the full moon,” Credence said.

“Yes,” Percy said slowly. “I don’t understand, Credence.”

Credence took a deep breath, and raised his head to look Percy in the eye. “I can’t shift,” he said.

“You mean tomorrow?” Percy asked. “You don’t want to shift tomorrow? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, full moon runs are always voluntary. Though—”

Credence shook his head. “No, I mean, I _can’t_ shift,” he said miserably. “Mary Lou never let me, and after so many years, now—now I can’t.”

He stepped back from Percy. “I can’t take my wolf form, Percy. And so I can’t be your mate.”


End file.
